"Look here," began Smith, when the two Englishmen regained the deck of the Diomeda, "this job wants any amount of tact. I don't think I'd telegraph the information. It will keep a few hours longer."
"And what then?"
"Get back to London as fast as you can. Don't mind me; I can hang on here very comfortably. See your editor and explain matters to him. He'll be able to deal with the business far more diplomatically than either you or I can. If he thinks fit to publish the news, well and good; but my private opinion is that he will communicate with the Foreign Office. The British and United States ambassadors in Berlin will be instructed to ask a few questions, and in less than a week Hamerton and Detroit will be set at liberty."
"But supposing Thompson decides otherwise?"
"Then there'll be war between Great Britain and the United States on the one hand and Germany on the other, unless Germany climbs down. Popular sentiment will be raised to such a pitch that war will be inevitable. But Thompson won't, except as a last resource. Now pack up and clear out. You'll just manage to catch the Harwich boat."
Sixteen hours later Stirling entered the private office of Harold Bennett, the editor of The Yachtsman's Journal. Bennett eyed him sadly, for Stirling's "special" looked as if it meant a financial loss to the already slender resources of the paper.
"I've found out something," exclaimed Stirling excitedly. "Hamerton and Detroit are alive. They are in Heligoland. There is every reason to believe that they are imprisoned as spies under the names of John and William Smith."
"Have you proof?"
"Yes."
"Then why in the name of thunder didn't you wire? We've just gone to press, and there'll be nearly a week's delay. I'm bound to inform Thompson, and by next Friday the news will be as stale as anything. Anyhow, let's have the story."